Chronicles of the Long War
by AddieBiscuit
Summary: The Russo-European war that reaped its bloody toll on the population of the world is widely considered to be the bloodiest war ever to take place in history. With the entire world taking sides in what could only be called a World War, there is no end to the conflict in sight. There can be no peace in an era of war and its effects will doubtlessly echo long into the future.
1. Prologue: Conversation

No two figures in history are more storied than those of Nicholas Romanov and Uriel re Britannia. These two figures that would go down in history as the leaders of nations that went to war and allowed over a billion people to die. In truth, history cannot convey the great tragedy of the twenty-sixth tsar of the house Romanov and the ninety-seventh emperor of the Britannian royal family.

\- The War to End All Wars, Britannia National Press 2063

* * *

It was a quiet night in Saint Petersburg, and though tensions were high with the threat of war looming from the unrest growing from the west, two brothers in all but blood sat in a dimly lit room with a window overlooking the Neva river.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Nick." Uriel said, the emperor extending a hand that the Tsar took with a firm nod. "With what was happening in the Balkans, I thought you'd finally gone completely mad."

The Tsar gave his friend a tired smile. "Politics already, Uriel? I had hoped you were here for a friendly chat on your way to that chocolate place near the old music hall."

"You aren't looking too bad yourself, old friend." Uriel said, leaning against the heavy table. "I am sorry," he said suddenly, taking the proffered glass as Nicholas nursed his own drink.

"What for?" Nicholas asked, an edge of bitterness creeping into his tone. "Once this bloody business in the Balkans is done, nobody will question me ever again. Nobody crosses a Romanov thrice."

"And you would drag all of Europe into a war? What would Lucia say?" Uriel demanded. It had been a sore spot for both royals when, almost three months ago, Tsarina Lucia Romanov nee re Britannia was shot in Sofia while touring the empire. The empress had been rushed to a hospital in Russian-held Bucharest, but had died on the operating table from a collapsed lung.

This was, given the circumstances, the wrong thing to say to the grieving man. Anger flashing in his steely eyes, Uriel was certain that Nicholas meant to hit him, and hit him he almost did. Not three inches separated the two men from coming to blows though Nicholas restrained his fist from connecting with Uriel's jaw and the latter remained unmoved save to set the glass on the table.

"You know damn well I would burn that worthless patch of earth if I could," Nicholas closed his eyes, allowing his fist to drop. "I will not be dissuaded from this, I've let them off too lightly in the past. It's high time I remind Europe why they should still fear the wrath of the bear."

Uriel took a deep breath. "I spoke poorly, but you know as well as I do that Lucia would not want this bloodshed in her name."

With a wry grin, Nicholas shook his head. "She always was too soft on the masses. I've given them everything, abolished centuries of tradition that my father spent his life to protect, and for what?" His temporary good mood evaporated into the storm that might soon spread all over Europe if Uriel could not dissuade his friend from following through with his ultimatum.

"My friend, I beg you to reconsider. There are alternatives, you could still turn to the international tribunal in Geneva, get justice for your wife and keep the peace that our fathers strove for so long to maintain despite that despotic upstart baguette's attempts to rile the Prussians to war." Uriel cautioned. "The losses would be catastrophic, there will be no winners if you choose to continue down this path."

The Tsar turned to his friend and shook his head. "Uriel, I admire you greatly, but this storm has been brewing for far longer than three months. The EU, the hegemony, the federation, we would have been at war with one of them in five, ten years. If people think it is acceptable to kill a head of state in their territory without reprisal where would that leave me in ten years?"

"Nicholas, be reasonable, one act of mercy will not damn your empire to oblivion." Uriel said.

"But one weak link could break the chain of this empire. I will not have it fall into the hands of lesser men while I still live. A divided empire is weak, and unless I show those upstarts in the Urals what happens to those that oppose me, I will have yet another uprising on my hands."

"Nick, please. Stop the mobilization before it is too late. Europe cannot survive another great war, we've lost an entire generation already, we cannot afford to lose another."

"I . . . I cannot do that, old friend. Britannia may be safe across the Atlantic, but I am in the lair of a thousand beasts waiting for weakness to tear at my body. Industrializing Russia was too much to hope for, a unified Russia was too much to hope for. No Uriel, if I cannot convince them to submit, then I will grind that country into dust."

Uriel's shoulders slumped. "I . . . had hoped it wouldn't come to this," he said quietly, his hands trembling. "Nicholas, in the name of our friendship, and in my sister's memory, I will not interfere with your venture. Please, see sense before the world is beyond recovery from what you are about to unleash."

"You still don't understand, Uriel. You were always too soft." Nicholas said as he toasted his friend. "To my victory, that it bring forth a time of peace."

Uriel drained his glass. "May you find closure, or this will have all been for naught."

A month later, Sofia would fall to the advancing Russian forces, another and France would mobilize against Russia, transporting troops to the Polish border. By the third month, and the beginning of the French offensive, would signal the beginning of the end. By the end of its third month, the New Great War would already take the lives of over a million people as Russian forces fought the Franco-Polish forces.

Thus began the Long War.

* * *

Disclaimer:

This story is a work of complete fiction that, while having some references to events that have occurred, was merely inspiration for this story and does not contain any of my personal views regarding the depiction of nations/borders/wars etc. This is also a hobby and I do not write this story with the intent to make money off it. I also do not own any copyrighted material mentioned in the story. Please don't sue me, I'm poor.

Hello everyone,

Addiebiscuit here, and I bring to you the Chronicles of the Long War. Primarily written from a Britannian perspective, the story is meant to act as an alternative history to the events prior to Code Geass. I felt it necessary to step away from my other story until I decided where I was going to take it as I'm currently rewriting and reworking large portions of the story that it would probably be its own story as separate from canon so I thought to just start from the beginning.

This story will act as a bridge to my interpretation of the Code Geass universe so I hope you all find this an interesting read. I know I'm excited to work on this story.

Catch you all in the next chapter,

Addiebiscuit


	2. Chapter 1

**Berlin, Kingdom of Prussia  
November 21, 1914  
47 days to the Sofia Offensive **

The parliament building was utter chaos, the Britannian ambassador to Prussia noted. A tall, thin man, careful in step and in word, Lord Anton Weinberg observed the Prussian nobles and lawmakers as they went head to head over the looming war. Despite himself, he could not help but hope that Britannia would join her allies in the war. The death of Tsarina Lucia and the injuries suffered by the daughter of the second prince weighed heavily on the mind of the diplomat. However, his orders were clear as well as his nation's official stance.

"Lord Weinberg, a pleasure you could make it to today's assembly," a smooth voice came from behind the diplomat, alerting the pair of guards that stood off to the sides. Wiry mustache and slicked hair, as well as the relative blandness of his features lent the figure of the master of Prussian intelligence an unassuming air. That Anton was the man the Prussians wanted for information to be relayed to the emperor's ear and their spymaster approaching him rather openly led to the man wondering just what was going on.

Acting as though it were a regular occurrence, Anton waved the guards away as the man took a seat next to him as he watched the chaotic proceedings on the floor below. "Sir Karth, it is good to see you again." Anton said, offering the spymaster a polite nod and a handshake as he took his seat. "I trust everything is going well, the emperor is rather worried about the kaiser's plan for the war."

Showing nothing that the Britannians already expected war to be the forgone conclusion, the spymaster shrugged. "Even you have to admit the baguettes have it coming to them."

"No comment," Anton said smoothly, hands clasped together as he watched the proceedings of the parliament below with some interest. "However, the emperor bid me request that information regarding the second prince's daughter be kept quiet."

"Alexandra is beloved by your people isn't she, imagine the sentiment back home if not one but two members of the royal family were injured and not even a word from the emperor. It might just be Matthias the Mad all over again." The spymaster rose from his place at Anton's side. "If the monarchies of the world do not unite, we will be drowned under the tide of the so-called enlightenment. Relay that message to your emperor, and a complimentary bit of information. The French have begun mobilization, Prussia can hardly remain disarmed even if we are supposedly neutral in this conflict."

Anton frowned, the winter war had taught France a bitter lesson in mobilizing their troops early. The scars of that conflict had barely healed and France was being all but given the excuse to attack the Prussian kingdom, which would inevitably drag Britannia into the conflict. "Surely the French know that declaring war on Prussia is a death sentence."

The spymaster shrugged. "Career politicians never think much of the unwritten agreements of political marriage to their enlightened minds." He remarked dryly.

* * *

 **Paris, France  
** **November 23, 1914  
** **45 days to the Sofia Offensive**

Foreign Minister Roche was deep in his drinks. Against all his advice, against all safeguards and plans he'd put into place to avoid this very situation, France was mobilizing for war. The ex-ambassador to Britannia had argued at length with the president, but the stubborn fool had all but told him that France would be heading to its doom in just over a month.

What this new breed of politician lacked was the respect for old traditions, ones that France herself once held dear until the revolution barely a century ago, Roche remembered. His family was one of the few noble families that managed to remain within France during the chaos of the revolution, and thus knew the intricacies of nobles. It was common knowledge that the second princess of the Prussians was married to the emperor of Britannia. The politicians scoffed, that being married would immediately cement alliances was foreign to these so-called enlightened politicians.

If France declared war on Prussia, something that the minister knew the idiots of high command would do to showcase the "might" of their latest tank design, it would give Britannia the only reason it needed besides the death of the tsarina to muster its armies for war. There would be nothing left if the three European superpowers united to destroy what they would doubtlessly consider upstarts.

The only point that the combined democratic nations could agree upon was that each empire was surrounded on all sides. If they fell before they could consolidate, the war could be won. However, the strength of the defenses of both nations had doubtlessly been improved since the war of 1870 and Roche was not confident he could negotiate a peace from a position of weakness, nobody could, it would be easier to annex the losing side before anyone said otherwise.

Roche reread the telegram sent by the Bulgarians, after the events at Sofia, the tiny nation had become something of a rallying call for the democratic nations as a twisted idea of the free man standing up against the tyrannical empires. That the tsarina was advocating the increase of rights for her nation's commoners and to abolish the slave system was cut short with her death. Bulgaria was hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned, if Russia wanted to, the country would cease to exist within the weeks it would take to cross from one side of the country to the other.

This would be his life's work going down in flames, the peace he and his fellow foreign ministers had spent years of their lives to preserving despite the conflicts of opposing ideologies. If Europe was plunged into a second continents-spanning war, there was no telling what, if anything, would survive the coming dark clouds of war. If war erupted in such a scale, it would dwarf any and all wars that had come before it and he would be there, a footnote in history, unable to stop the collapse of human civilization.

He shook his head, if nothing else, he was a stubborn man and his pride would not let him leave a task unfinished if there was something he could still do about it. He began to write. "To the esteemed Lord Weinberg," Roche muttered, penning the draft for his latest missive to the Britannian foreign minister. He was a good friend, maybe there was something he could do to stop this madness.

* * *

Disclaimer:

This story is a work of complete fiction that, while having some references to events that have occurred, was merely inspiration for this story and does not contain any of my personal views regarding the depiction of nations/borders/wars etc. This is also a hobby and I do not write this story with the intent to make money off it. I also do not own any copyrighted material mentioned in the story. Please don't sue me, I'm poor.

Greetings,

Thus the players are taking the stage, the story seems a bit disconnected, but that's because the beginning is more of a series of short stories to show just how the war that will eventually reshape the world into my own setting is going to play out. I'm excited to put together the five or so chapters that precede the beginning of the story, each showing a little glimpse at the people who attempt to stop the war. I feel their perspectives, as limited as they will be, will be a good backdrop for the war as it unfolds.

I'll update as I can, though I'm a bit swamped with schoolwork so every other week seems like my best guess until break where I'll pick up the pace a bit more as I have time to research and plan and such.

Addiebiscuit


End file.
